


One Touch

by RagaMuffinSundrop



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-11
Updated: 2015-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 05:18:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4552128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RagaMuffinSundrop/pseuds/RagaMuffinSundrop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Why Rose might have agreed to go with Nine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Touch

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Doctor Who no matter what Police Constable Pan Am tries to tell anyone.

One touch of his hand, more of accidental brushes of fingers than anything else, and she can see it all. All that will happen, all that has happened and all that may happen. The choice is hers.

She sees how she will love, be loved, she sees herself burn. She sees his sacrifice, his change, her life. He will die for her. She will save him and be changed forever. One touch and she sees it all joy, love, danger, pain, passion, loss. One touch needed to make her choice.

His fingers tighten around hers, almost a complete joining of hands, but not quite. Now images dance across her mind, abstract, yet unmistakably erotic. Flesh to flesh, hands pulling closer, lips and tongues tangling, touches that scream of passion. She cannot find her breath; he's taken it from her. She doesn't mind, he replaces it with his own a hot groan against her lips and neck. This isn't love this is lust, this is desire. Love dances at the edge of the scene, not quite daring to come in. Neither she nor her is inviting it yet. His fingers are cool. The touch of them is incinerating her skin, no less painful than the final burn and every bit as pleasurable. She never fully appreciated that one small touch; one gesture of desire can do so much. She wants more. At the edge of consciousness she hears a moan that isn't hers and knows he wants it too. All it takes is a little movement on her part.

Their hands are completely joined now. Fingers interlocked tightly together and there isn't even room for light between their joined hands. Now the images are clear no longer abstract. Lust is dimmed to be given love as a complimenting companion. Love that was always there but now has come fully into play. She would die for him. He will die for her. Such is their love.

They are alone. They are together. There is cold metal at her back and the feel of his lean body pressed to hers at her front. He is so close they are one. Hot feverish kisses rain on her neck and face making her arch against him. She is in a place she's never been. He will keep her safe and never let her fall. She knows this without words. The feeling is primal. He is hers, he has always been hers and forever will be. One touch and she knows.

He cannot give her forever. She knows this. The concept of forever is different for the two of them. Forever to her is a contradiction. It is finite despite the concept. Forever to him is infinite. It is filled with destruction, loneliness and pain. Always and always filled with pain. His pain, her pain, the pain of the world, all worlds. She doesn't mind the loss that will come and tells him with her eyes that she is prepared. To her forever is this time with him, whether the time lasts a moment or a year she is ready. One touch from her a hand on his cheek. From him, the intense loving gaze and a finger tracing her lips. One touch and she is ready.

The cool metal wall is gone now replaced with soft, cotton sheets. Lights are dimmed and she is aware of candles flickering, casting the room in a warm glow. The scent of vanilla and rose fills the air. She is pleased, knowing he did this for her. He is above her now. His breath warm on her face, they were so close. Bodies not touching, not yet. He wants this as much as she but is willing to wait for her, content to only dream of what could be. I love you, his eyes tell her. The message is telegraphed through his fingers. His touch is reverent. I love you; she sees his words in her mind an instant before she hears them from his lips. The words are soft. They are a prayer. I love you, she replies before his words are finished. The words are in her mind and on her lips in the same instant. As she says these words his blue eyes darken and hope and hunger war across his face.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" his asks the question both mentally and verbally as if to make sure she fully understands the implications of her choice. She knows he will love her no less if she hesitates, tells him not yet or no. She knows that the choice has always been hers. That his love is absolute. She knows his love; their love will be an absolute when all else is uncertain. She knows he needs her and it completes and terrifies him. She knows she's spent her life waiting for something realizing it was him only a second after they meet. She isn't afraid. "I love you. This is exactly what I want." She says the words aloud to make him fully understand. Warring emotions again on his face and then they are gone replaced by desire as his lips descend on hers.

His kiss is harsh and demanding. She can follow but has no hope of leading. His fingers are in a direct contrast; his touches gentle feather light caresses. Her clothing is stripped away a piece and a caress at a time. His touches are making her want to jump out of her skin as he brings her arousal to the brink. Mentally she screams at him. "I'm not going to break you know." He smiles against her neck and in that next instant his own clothes are gone. His is inside her and as it has been fated from the very beginning they are one. One touch his mind to hers and all that is physical becomes a million times more potent as it becomes a mental joining as well. One touch and they are over the edge together in ways she has never imagined and he has never thought he would be blessed enough to experience. One touch.

His fingers are tight around hers, too tight for a moment and Rose pulls back from the pain. His hand is gone from hers. She is in the lift in the dingy basement of the shop where she works and a man who calls himself the Doctor is at her side. She might be about to die, She should be terrified but isn't. He will help her. The Doctor will keep her safe. Rose doesn't know how she knows this but instinctively she knows. Turning her head a bit she can see by the intense heat in his eyes he knows this as well. Wordlessly he wiggles his fingers at her, an invitation. It is an invitation to heaven and hell; to love and pain. She doesn't have to accept it. She can go on without him. In the end however, there is no choice. Smiling at him. Rose grasps the Doctor's fingers with her own, locking their hands tightly together. One touch and it changes her world. One touch…


End file.
